Fancy
by Idan
Summary: After Silver Wings of Time, Jane reflects, Cho makes threats, and Lisbon throws a punch. Facing a new phase in their relationship, Jane and Lisbon try to adjust.
1. Midnight Snack

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still not mine. Believe me, I've checked.

**Author's Note:** I'm still holding to "Words" as my definitive take on how things should go, but I thought I'd try something different here. It got a little out of hand, though. I wanted a nice little neat tag but my muse was suffering from ADHD or something.

**Fancy**

Cloth napkins and everything.

Lisbon's bar for fancy is set low. This is not new information, but it's something I haven't given much thought to in a long time. Mr. Art Squad might be at home in the finer dining establishments of Austin but I wonder how he'd do in L.A. Or Monte Carlo. How I'd love to escort Lisbon around the stately old casino there, mingling with the rich and beautiful, and retire to a yacht in the harbor as the sun came up.

She would hate every minute of it, though. And that's the thing: Lisbon doesn't care for fancy. She got all dressed up for Pike because it was something he wanted, not something she did. Or maybe just because they both thought it was the thing to do. He probably thought he needed to do it to demonstrate the seriousness of his pursuit, and she thought she needed to let him to show she was giving him a chance. Even though she would much rather be eating barbecue in a dive somewhere or ordering a pizza at home where she could kick her shoes off.

I'd have no problem with that. Even though I'd love to have her put on a formal gown and parade her in front of envious opera-goers, my enjoyment would be greatly diminished because I'd know she was uncomfortable. Pike probably won't even notice she hates French food, is insecure about her silverware choices if there are too many options, and is distracted in high heels because she's afraid she's going to turn an ankle and get stuck with desk duty.

Work comes first in the Lisbon taxonomy of priorities. It always has. That's partly why she never used to change into date clothes in the office back at CBI: she was focused on projecting leadership and toughness. Femininity was the last thing she wanted to convey to her coworkers. Her tomboy upbringing fed into that, of course, but it's not like she didn't know how to knock a man's socks off if she wanted to. She just never wanted to, at least within the confines of the CBI.

That started to change our last two years there, though. Her makeup got more refined, she took more pains with her hair, and she started wearing blouses that offered a peek at her cleavage if one was inclined to make the effort. Which, I admit, I was. More than occasionally. I've always loved a beautiful view.

This change mystified me at first, and I looked for the lucky guy who'd distracted her while I was in Vegas. It took me longer than it should have to realize there wasn't one, because I was too busy obsessing over how to use Lorelei to get to Red John. Apparently Lisbon was obsessing a little, too, even though I told her repeatedly that Lorelei meant nothing to me on a personal level. Maybe I felt a kinship with her, but no more than I felt with Feinberg or any of the other victims we've encountered over the years who've lost the person who meant the most to them.

Lisbon's jealousy of Lorelei—well, maybe jealousy is a strong word, but she certainly wanted to protect me from her—should have made me sit up and take notice. Maybe I should have tried harder to discourage her from thinking of me as someone she could have. Someone she could save. But I enjoyed it too much. It had been much too long since my ego had been flattered that way. Lisbon wasn't interested in my looks or my charm—she was (and is) the person who knows me best, and she still wanted me. I used to turn that thought over and over in my mind, marveling at it. I still do sometimes.

Though it's far from clear that she still wants me. She's accepted Pike's attentions readily enough, after all.

I have no right to feel like I've been sucker punched. I've never so much as hinted to her that I wanted her as anything but my coworker. I can't blame her for taking me at face value.

The hell of it is, I can't change that now. She'll think I'm just being a dog in the manger. I have to sit back and let this thing with Pike play itself out. I can outlast him; I've outlasted every other man in Lisbon's life, except Cho. And unless I miss my guess, he's more interested in Fischer.

But maybe I can lay some groundwork. And I have to consider the possibility that she won't get tired of Pike and kick him to the curb; things seem to have progressed beyond the usual level of Lisbon's dates. He's a nice guy who's pursuing her in a dedicated and serious fashion, and she's been alone a long time. She might decide to take what she can get. We're both at that point in our lives where we take stock and evaluate what we need to be doing differently to get what we want, right?

Except, of course, that I don't seem to be doing anything differently. I'm still wearing my ring, still treating her like a colleague and friend, still lying here on this damn couch instead of out there trying to get a life.

I am an idiot.

But I'm an idiot who wants her to be happy, and it seems like Pike is a much better bet in that regard. I have a record of treating Lisbon poorly, sometimes despicably, and nobody knows that better than I do, except maybe for her. Sure, I could run after her now, or let myself into her apartment and sweep her off her feet after she gets home all grumpy and footsore after her fancy date, but sooner or later—probably sooner—I'd start taking her for granted, abusing her kindness and forbearance, and generally behaving like an ass. Nobody who loves her would want that for her. I don't.

Really. I don't.

Except, I don't want to be alone anymore, either. I'm tired of it. And I can't imagine letting anyone but Lisbon into my private life. She's the one I could trust with all of it; she already knows the worst I'm capable of. How would I ever date a nice, ordinary woman knowing I'd have to explain eventually how I killed a man with my bare hands, with malice aforethought? How could I bear to explain why certain days make me sad, that I remember so much and at the same time so little? That I can't recall exactly how Charlotte's laughter sounded and it makes me damn near suicidal when I realize that?

Some days, I think I had it right when I planned to not survive Red John. I'll never be normal again, after all. No amount of time can bring me that. And what's left of me is such a stinking mess that I can't bear to saddle the person I care about with it, but at the same time I can't stand to watch her walk away from me to another man. There's no way out of this dilemma. I'd like to think I'm a good enough person to let her go build a life with Pike and find whatever happiness she can, but I know eventually my innate selfishness will win out and I'll find myself on her doorstep begging her to give me a chance. And then I'll blow it.

But I lived because I couldn't bear to break her heart. And that's still a valid reason. It wouldn't be any less painful for her if I managed to get myself killed now. Though maybe, just maybe, she could come to terms with it if I just disappeared, maybe leaving her a note to let her know how grateful I am for what she meant to my life and that she shouldn't worry about me? I could wade into the sea somewhere and do some good by nourishing the marine life. She would think I got tired of the FBI and went off to be a beach bum again. When something reminded her of me, she'd smile, thinking of me off causing trouble somewhere. And on her wedding day she'd be grateful I wasn't there to piss Pike's family off or otherwise mar the day.

No. That's not Lisbon. She would never be glad I was gone, especially if she couldn't keep tabs on me. She'd worry that she didn't hear from me, and she'd do it for the rest of her life. And if I didn't do things right and my body was ever found….

I can't do it. Either way, alive or dead, I'm bad for her. But if I'm alive she can at least tell herself I'm okay. And I can fake it well enough to keep her believing it.

Of course, there is an alternative. And that's to man up, sweep Lisbon off her feet, and then treat her like a queen for the rest of my days. Horse's assery would not be an option.

I sigh. That would take a lot of work. Not sweeping her off her feet—I could do that in ten minutes. Or less. But the not being a horse's ass part would be new, uncharted territory for me. Even Angela used to say I had the temperament of a drunken mule, and she loved me. It's possible I'm too old for such a radical personality makeover.

"You're an idiot," Cho says from directly above my head. I shift my gaze over to see him standing beside my couch, arms folded.

"Is it Obvious Day and nobody told me?" I snark. "First Wiley's computer needlessly reminding us all of the passage of time, and now you're going around announcing people's personality flaws? Why don't you remind me I'm going to die while you're at it?"

"You're going to die," Cho says obligingly. "The only question is who'll be the one killing you. Mess this up for Lisbon and it'll be me."

Nice to know. Cho would do a thorough, straightforward job. No torture, no cutting off of fingers. Just a quick blow to whatever secret spot he knows and bam, I'm out of here. He could tell Lisbon I provoked him and she wouldn't question it for a moment.

But she'd never forgive him. And I can't leave her without any of her old friends to support her through her grief.

"You have that look," Cho continues. "Like you're going to do something crazy."

"I'm not going to do anything crazy," I reply, deciding not to get into the question of whether anything I ever do is crazy. I'm pretty sure we're going to have to agree to differ on that one. "Lisbon's off to be happy with Pike and I'm lying here on my couch being no trouble to anyone."

"And that's crazy," he says.

I blink at him, then decide to sit up. If Cho is going to have a conversation about feelings, I want to be fully present. This is better than a solar eclipse. "Oh?"

"You know what you should do. Tell me whatever bullshit reason is stopping you so I can rebut the hell out of it and we can all go on with our lives."

An interesting offer. I decide to take him up on it, more out of curiosity than hope. "I think I've proven I can't make anybody happy. Maybe Pike can. I want her to have the chance." That was a lot harder to say than I anticipated.

Cho rolls his eyes at me. "You make people happy all the time. Not as many as you make unhappy, but you don't care about them."

"Have I ever made you happy?" Let's see him squirm. He deserves it for instigating this conversation.

"I'm happy every time we catch the bad guy. So yeah." He pauses, then says, "I was really happy you got Van Pelt back alive. Even though you almost got Rigsby killed."

"That's how it goes, isn't it?" I point out. "For every good thing I do, there's at least one bad thing."

"So you're like the rest of us. Get over it."

"Bullshit. You can't say that about Lisbon." Probably not him either, but I think I will leave Cho's inner landscape unexplored. There be dragons, as the old mapmakers used to say.

"I could say she's not doing Pike any favors dating him when she's hung up on you."

"That assumes she's hung up on me." What happened to the guy who scoffed when Rigsby floated the idea of Lisbon and myself as a couple?

Cho kicks me in the ankle. It hurts like hell. "Don't insult my intelligence."

I shift out of leg's reach, whimpering a little. Damn. Maybe Death by Cho isn't such a good option after all.

Cho has no sympathy. I have absolutely no doubt he would put me in Intensive Care if he thought it would convert me to his point of view. "I saw her on her way out," he says. "You made her unhappy."

"I told her she was beautiful and to have a good time," I protest. Come on. That was as nice as I know how to be.

"Which means 'I couldn't care less who you sleep with because I couldn't care less about you.'"

"No it doesn't!"

"I guarantee you that's what it means in that woman-to-English dictionary they all use," Cho says.

Okay. I have to give him that one. I was married, so I'm familiar with that particular fiendish dictionary. I decide to cut to the chase before he gets impatient and hurts me again. "I'm no good for her, Cho. You know that as well as I do."

"Yeah, I do. But I also know Lisbon likes to make up her own mind. You owe her that."

Another excellent point, damn it. I owe her so much more than I could ever hope to repay, but the thing about debt is that the debtor doesn't get to determine the currency of repayment.

Cho sighs at me like I'm a slow child, or maybe a disobedient dog. "Make her cry and I'll break your nose," he says, then leaves.

I sit for a minute longer and review my options. They now consist of:

1. Suicide. Still unacceptable due to emotional damage to Lisbon.

2. Running away. Low odds of success given that the entire FBI would search for me. And Cho wouldn't be looking to bring me in alive. Also, emotional damage to Lisbon, so unacceptable.

3. Continuing my hands-off approach to Lisbon and Pike's relationship. Low odds of success due to my selfish nature; high odds of physical damage to me from Cho.

4. Declaring myself to Lisbon. Low odds of success and high odds of physical damage from Lisbon, at least in the short term. High odds of success in the medium term. High probability of devastating failure in the long term.

When confronted with nothing but bad options, the best thing to do is play for time and hope conditions change. So I guess I'll go with number 4 and hope I can figure out how to avoid crashing and burning.

I get up from my couch and try putting weight on my ankle. It hurts but holds.

Guess there's no getting out of this tonight.

mmm

Letting myself into Lisbon's place is probably not going to endear me to her, but I can't guarantee she'll answer my calls tonight, and I have to get this over with before I chicken out. I make myself a cup of tea, fix some of her no-butter microwave popcorn (ugh), and settle in to see what's on cable these days. Not much. I guess that never changes.

Speaking of change. I twist my ring around my finger a couple of times, something I've been doing for years to comfort myself. That has to change. I pull it off and put it carefully in my inner jacket pocket.

As the hours pass it occurs to me she might not be coming home tonight. She might be spending the night at Pike's place. I'm not worried she's bringing him here; she didn't bother to tidy up before she left and she won't want him to see the mess. He probably doesn't know messy women make the best lovers.

I've picked a spot where I can see the street, so I notice when a cab pulls up and she gets out. Show time.

Lisbon staggers a little as she opens the door and sees me, but she doesn't looks surprised. Guess she noticed her lights were on. She kicks off her shoes, closes the door, and says, "Damn it, Jane."

By now I don't need the slurring to realize she's had too much to drink. Very un-Lisbon-like. "Have a nice time?" Oops, that was not at all the non-horse's-assery thing I meant to say.

"God damn French wine. God damn cognac," she mutters, stomping over to the couch and collapsing onto it beside me, nearly making me spill my popcorn. She reaches over and grabs a handful, stuffing it into her mouth like she's starving. "God damn snooty portions that couldn't feed a snail. Which I hate, by the way. No matter how much garlic butter you put on it."

Yep, that's my Lisbon. Not the fancy type. Pike was so busy trying to impress her that it didn't occur to him she wasn't likely to find escargot to her taste. "Can I make you a sandwich or something?"

"God, yes. I'm starving." She's tipsy enough that she tries a famished, wide-eyed waif look on me. She's really good at it. I drop a kiss on her forehead as I get to my feet and hand her the popcorn bowl.

There's more of a selection of food in her kitchen than I was expecting, and I whip up a grilled cheese sandwich and heat up a can of tomato soup for her. Comfort food.

She's half asleep on the couch when I carry the food out, but she perks up at the smell and grabs the sandwich, wolfing it down like a starving…well, wolf. There's something lupine about Lisbon, all forest green eyes and shadowy grace, beautiful and deadly all at once.

She pauses after half the sandwich is gone to demand, "Why'd you kiss me?"

Oh, so many reasons. I try to figure out the one least likely to get me punched. I need to wait for her blood sugar to stabilize before delving into anything emotional. I finally settle for, "Why not?"

She frowns at me. "You've never kissed me before. Only other people."

"Well, you're the only one here," I joke.

Oops. Her face falls, and she sniffs a little as she gulps down some soup.

"Plus," I add, trying to retrieve the situation, "you're awfully pretty in that dress." I hand her a napkin, because I don't want her to spatter it with soup. Ideally, I'd like to see her in it again, but this time sitting across a table from me. Somewhere they don't serve escargot. "And I think we need some new traditions."

Lisbon looks at me like I've grown another head. "So you're gonna start kissing me now?"

"I'd like to, yes. But only if it won't get me punched in the nose."

She shrugs. "I won't. Marcus might." She finishes the soup and looks at me skeptically. "Is this you getting jealous, Jane?"

"Not getting, no. I've been there for some time. Ever since that first night, in fact."

"You have a damn funny way of showing it."

"I wasn't sure I should. I want you to be happy. But Cho threatened me."

"Huh. So you're here under dress? Dur-ess?" she corrects herself, frowning.

"I guess you could say that. I'm a terrible coward, you know."

"I know." She rolls her eyes at me like a teenager. She's really cute when she's drunk on French wine. I'll have to figure out how to make this happen more often.

"If I weren't a coward," I say as she takes a normal-sized bite of the other half of the sandwich, "I'd tell you how sexy you are in that dress. But you're sexier when you're packing heat."

"Who says I'm not?" she challenges me. I run my eyes over the dress, trying to figure out where, which elicits a triumphant grin from her. "What else would you tell me, you coward?"

"That you're the best person I know. That I wouldn't even be alive right now if it weren't for you. That I love you, and I have for years."

She sighs. "I know, Jane. You love me like a sister."

"Um, no. I'd have to be really perverted to think about a sister like I think about you."

Lisbon finds this extremely funny for some reason. She snorts a little as she laughs, and I get up to get her a glass of water in case she chokes.

"You're really just a guy, aren't you?" she asks as I sit back down.

"I take exception to the 'just,' but yes, I am a guy." I'm trying to take this seriously, but she's making it difficult to keep a straight face.

"You ignore me for years," she says, exaggerating the last word for comic effect, "and I put on a dress and then bam! You have this sudden realization I have a vagina. You're such a pig."

Where to start untangling that? Maybe I should just skip ahead. I open my mouth, but Lisbon is still talking, so I shut it.

"Or maybe it's that somebody else wants me? Huh? You don't want anybody else to play with your toys, do you? Well, you coulda played with me years ago, Jane, and you didn't, so it's somebody else's turn. You had your chance and you didn't want it." She glares at me and takes another bite of her sandwich.

"I did want it," I tell her. "I just wasn't ready to play yet."

"You're never gonna be ready," she shoots back. "You love your wife. Fair enough. Good for you. But stop stringing me along, dammit! I'm not gonna be your mistress. So just leave me alone, okay? Bastard." She punches me in the shoulder, hard. I'm going to have more than one bruise tomorrow.

I hold up my bare left hand. "I do still love my wife. I always will. That doesn't mean I don't love you too. And it doesn't mean I'm not ready." Except I'm probably not. But she's on the verge of tears and I have to stop it. If she cries I'll start babbling, and I can't afford to.

"Then why don't you ask me out?" she wails in frustration.

And it hits me. This is the perfect opening line. Thank you, Lisbon. "Because any idiot can ask you out. Any idiot can try to seduce you over a meal, which, by the way, I clearly recall telling you I wouldn't do." I point to the remnants of the sandwich. "I love you enough to ask you in."

Lisbon blinks at me, stunned, for a full minute before breaking out in a guffaw. "Let me get this straight. You think it would be idiotic to ask me out to dinner, so you break into my house, eat my popcorn, and fix me dinner with my food and tell me that's how you show real love?"

"I'm taking care of you as you are, without trying to change you. Without forcing you to dress up and go to a fancy restaurant you'll hate and pretend to be someone you're not." She stops laughing, so I press ahead. "I waited for you to finish your date and then I fixed you food you like. I'd like to rub your sore little feet if you'll let me. And then I'll help you to your room to get out of that dress and into bed and tuck you in with a kiss. I'll sleep on your couch so I can get up and fix you coffee and toast in the morning and bring you aspirin for your hangover. I'll hold your hair while you throw up if you need me to. Don't try to tell me that's not love."

Lisbon stares at me with those slightly wild eyes and then, slowly, lifts her feet to settle them in my lap. She doesn't say anything, but the challenge is clear.

I flex my fingers theatrically before taking one of her delicate feet into my hands, stroking and exploring at first before beginning to massage where I can tell she's hurting the most. Lisbon lets out a little moan and then slaps a hand over her mouth like she can take it back.

I've never enjoyed a foot massage so much in my life. Maybe that's because I've usually used them as foreplay, and that's not happening here. She's much too drunk, and we're not there yet. So I'm just savoring this for what it is without wanting to skip to the next part.

By the time I'm done, Lisbon has melted into a little puddle in her corner of the couch, eyes nearly closed, breathing slow and deep. I gently set her feet on the floor, smiling at the way she flexes her toes into the carpeting, and maneuver her into a sitting position so I can pull her to her feet. She leans against me heavily as we make our way to the bedroom but stands on her own as I unzip the dress, letting it fall to the floor. I unfasten her bra and push it down her arms, keeping my touching to a minimum, and then pull an oversized T-shirt out from under her pillow and help her into it. I'm biofeedbacking like mad at the little glimpses of her breasts in the moonlight, trying to keep sex out of this. But I'm memorizing them for later.

Pulling down the covers, I turn to help her sit, but she does a faceplant onto the bed instead, giggling a little. I chuckle in response as I move her to the proper angle and cover her up. She rolls over and looks at me with a pout, and I smile as I realize she's waiting for her kiss.

Her lips taste like expensive cognac, and I have to commend Pike on his choice. But then, I knew he had good taste because he chose Lisbon.

"Good night," I tell her softly. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

One little hand emerges from the covers and grasps my sleeve. "Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Teresa. I'll be here."

"Good." She yawns, and then she's out like a light. I hang the dress up in her closet and tiptoe back to the couch, turning off the TV and the lights and lying down to think.

She might not remember any of this in the morning. Or she might remember it but pretend not to. But I'm willing to explain it all to her again. Cho was right: she does need to make her own decision.

But I know what she's going to choose. Pike might have given her fancy, but I'll give her the kind of love that lasts when the restaurants close and there's food to be cooked and clothes to be hung up and hair to be held over the toilet. And when I inevitably behave like an ass, she'll kick mine until I stop.

Hopefully without leaving another bruise.

**A/N:** I feel like I should apologize to Cho for using him as the go-between every time. And I don't know what the hell this was, so if you're now appalled, sorry! Go read "Words" instead. It's way less rambling, I promise.


	2. The Morning After

**Author's Note: **Once again, my one-shot turned out to be no such thing. For Mlee because she asked with big kitty eyes. :) This goes AU after Silver Wings of Time; there will be no talk of moving here!

**Chapter 2: The Morning After**

I sleep surprisingly well. Lisbon has learned a thing or two about couches over the years, and the nice thick throw served me well as a blanket. It undoubtedly helped that it smells like her. As I watch the sun rise, I spend a few minutes idly concocting a plan to buy an identical one and switch them out from time to time so I can always have a Lisbon-scented blanket.

But then, the entire reason I am here is to convince Lisbon to take a chance on me, which should logically lead to my not sleeping alone anymore, at least eventually. Though I think having the actual woman lying within reach all night might not lead to sleep, at least not until I've reached the point of exhaustion.

Her phone goes off, and I dig it out of the little clutch she was carrying last night, now abandoned by the door like her shoes. It's her alarm. I silence it, then turn it off, having automatically made note of her passcode some time ago, and think about texting Fischer to say she won't be in. I'd better see how she's doing first.

I hear the coffeemaker switch on—that must be her backup alarm. I turn it back off as I make my way toward her bedroom. She's sprawled on her stomach, hair everywhere, and when I lift a few strands of it I see she's drooling on her pillow. She's a mess, but my heart squeezes a little at the sight. She is so precious to me. I want her to be happy, but at the same time...well, I just want her.

I lean in and kiss her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face and stroking her cheek. I love taking care of her. Who else in the world would ever let me take care of them? I lost one family through arrogance and broke up another through selfish obsession. She is all I have left. I thought maybe I could stand to let her drift away if it meant she would be happy, but I know now I was wrong and Cho was right. Lisbon isn't happy. She's settling for second best and telling herself it's enough.

She moans a little and frowns in her sleep, so I soothe her with a gentle scalp massage and then go to the bathroom to fetch her some aspirin and a glass of water. Leaving those on the nightstand for her when she wakes up, I then return to the living room, retrieve her phone, and text Fischer. Cho will think something's up, because he knows Lisbon is rarely sick, but Fischer and Abbott haven't known her long enough to be suspicious.

I give it 15 minutes and then send a text from my own phone, complaining of flu-like symptoms. Lisbon and I spend enough time together that contagion bringing both of us down is plausible. Cho won't rat me out because he'll figure I'm either working on the assignment he gave me or recovering from Lisbon having beaten me to a pulp.

As I finish, Lisbon's phone buzzes. It's Pike, asking how she's feeling this morning. He must have noticed she had too much alcohol and not enough food. Good for you, genius, I think as I scowl at the phone. Obviously he can't be trusted with an important matter like the care and feeding of Lisbon.

I don't reply, because Lisbon will forgive me impersonating her to call in sick but not to chat with her boyfriend. Instead I head for the kitchen, seeking tea. I won't cook anything until I'm sure she's not sick to her stomach, but maybe—aha! Strawberries! I pop one in my mouth and search until I find a small stash of tea bags and an electric kettle.

I sip my cup of tea at the little table in Lisbon's kitchen, looking around with satisfaction. Lisbon's place in Sacramento was basically a crash pad; here, she's made a home. She must have learned a thing or two about nesting during all her free time in Cannon River.

That explains Pike, too, I realize. Lisbon has thought about her personal life, now that she has one, and decided she needs someone to share it with. He volunteered, and I didn't. Until now.

Her phone buzzes again. Pike is getting concerned. Well, he should be.

After my second cup of tea, I go back to check on Lisbon. She's restless, moaning a little and grimacing. Poor baby. I stroke her hair for a minute, then call her name gently. She needs to take the aspirin.

"Mmph," she protests as she wakes. "Jane?"

"I'm right here," I assure her. "Sit up for a second."

"Noo," she whines as I lift her up, settling her against my chest. She curls into me and snuffles, and I can't resist dropping a kiss into her tangled hair.

"Take this and you can go back to sleep," I tell her.

"Coffee," she mutters.

"After you drink your water." She doesn't move, so I slip the pill into her mouth and hold the glass to her lips. A few moans of protest later, she finally cooperates. "That's my girl. You'll feel better in a little bit." I hold her and rub her back, savoring the feel of her, a warm, soft weight against my chest. I push back the memories of holding my girls when they were sick and focus on the here and now. I have to start thinking about the future, not get stuck in my past. It's hard, though.

"Jane?" Her voice is whispery and a little slurred, and I know she's falling back to sleep, which is the best thing for her.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I don' wanna wake up. Such a nice dream." She hums a little and rubs her cheek against my chest.

"You can have it again," I tell her, a little choked up at this evidence of her quiet longing. "Anytime you want."

I am a bastard. She wants so little and deserves so much, and I owe her everything but give her nothing. That changes now. She's my priority. I'm going to stop pretending not to care that she's seeing Pike. I'm going to show her that even though I'm a far cry from the man she deserves, I will take good care of her. I'll love her with everything I have left, give her everything I can, and hope it's enough for her. I'll let her try to fix me, and I'll protect her from the things that poke at her scars and feed her little compliments to plump up her poor starving heart.

Lisbon is back asleep, so I flip over her pillow and ease her gently down so her flushed cheek rests on its cool surface. Then I kiss her lips, still damp from the water, and go back to the couch so I don't disturb her. I know I won't sleep again, so I poke around and find a coffee table book tucked away on a shelf. It's full of photos of California, which makes me painfully nostalgic. I stare at the familiar bridge in Sacramento for a long time before I close the book and return it to the shelf. In doing so, I accidentally bump a box and have to catch it to keep it from sliding off its shelf.

Because it's not possible for me to hold a box and not open it, I lift the lid. Immediately I have to sit down, staring at my letters to Lisbon, all neatly folded, the edges worn from handling. The cowrie shell I sent her sits in the front, and I smile a little as I touch it. This box is where Lisbon keeps her memories of me. She's obviously read my letters repeatedly, perhaps imbuing them with more meaning than I intended.

Or perhaps not. I think back to those long, lonely days when these letters contained the only meaningful communication I had with anyone. I loved her then but couldn't express it from so far away, with our future so tenuous. I promised myself I'd tell her when I saw her again, but then I chickened out. I didn't want anything to interfere with getting her to the FBI, and then she read me the Riot Act about controlling her life. And then I was just enjoying having a life again, on the job with Lisbon and Cho, doing some good in the world solving crimes and deflating pompous assholes.

A knock on the door makes me jump, and I carefully put the letters back before peering through the peephole. Ah. Pike has made better time than I anticipated. I open the door with my most obnoxious smile.

"Agent Pike, good morning. Come in, come in. I was just about to make Lisbon some coffee for when she wakes up. Would you like some?"

Pike hesitates, then steps inside, looking awkward and flummoxed. "Uh, sure. Yes. If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. Sit; I'll bring it to you." I wave toward the couch and note the way his expression lightens as he takes in the crumpled throw and deduces I slept there and not with his girlfriend.

Emboldened, he follows me into the kitchen, standing in the doorway as I put the kettle on and turn on the coffeemaker. "I was thinking of breakfast. Have you eaten? I scramble a mean egg," I say.

"I'm not a big breakfast eater," he says. "So. Did Teresa call you last night? I wanted to see her home, but she wouldn't let me."

"No, she didn't call me. I stopped by to see her and we ended up having a late night snack." Because you failed to satisfy her appetite, I manage not to say. I'm not going to get into a contest with him. This is not a competition. This is a choice for Lisbon to make. Hers and hers alone.

"Oh." He hesitates, then says, "She told me you two were close. Good friends."

"We are."

"Been through a lot together. Partners. That's a special bond."

"It is."

"That's nice. That's good. I mean, everybody needs somebody to care about them."

"Absolutely. And Lisbon has a heart as big as Texas," I say. "She's a very special woman."

"Yes, she is," he agrees quickly.

I wonder what role he's assigning me here. Does he think I'm like a big brother he has to justify his intentions to? He seems to have dismissed any idea that I'm a rival for Lisbon's affections.

"I, uh, I didn't set out to get her drunk," he says.

Ah. Big brother it is. "I didn't think you did."

"I didn't know she didn't like French food. But I do now. Does, uh, does she like Greek?"

"Lisbon's taste buds were made in Chicago, with very little after-market modification," I tell him. "Though she's been known to eat sushi because she thought she had to after moving to California. Stick with barbecue, hamburgers, that kind of thing. Meat and potatoes. If you have to go upscale, stick to Italian or a steakhouse. Or Tex-Mex." If Lisbon decides to keep seeing him for a while, I don't want her to starve. And I don't want her getting drunk, either.

Pike smiles. "I'll do that. Thanks."

I pour him a cup of coffee and hand it to him, then busy myself with making my tea. Pike doesn't move. Doesn't he have somewhere else to be?

"I was really hoping to see her," he says finally. "Guess she's pretty wiped out. I didn't, uh, realize how affected she was until we were leaving."

Yes, Lisbon holds her liquor very well. "She's got a headache, but I got some aspirin down her a while ago. She hasn't been sick or anything."

"I'm glad to hear it. I—" He breaks off as sounds emerge from the bedroom.

Now I'm faced with a quandary. I can let Lisbon stumble out here as is and let her embarrassment drive a wedge between her and Pike, or I can give her some warning and save her an unpleasant moment. I know what she'd want, so I put down my tea cup and head for the bedroom with a fresh mug of coffee.

Lisbon is sitting up, rubbing at her eyes. She smiles when she sees me, melting my heart, and reaches for the coffee, making me smile. As she sips it, I say, "You have company."

"What?" Her pleasure in the coffee vanishes.

"Pike stopped by to check on you. He's in the kitchen having coffee."

Lisbon grimaces. "Sheep dip."

I chuckle. "I can get rid of him for you."

"No! No, don't," she says, looking as if she's afraid I might hypnotize him into walking off a cliff somewhere. "Just...stall him."

"Got it." I give her a smile she finds worrying and retreat as she flings the covers back and slides out of bed.

I'll never get tired of looking at those legs.

I go back to the kitchen and say, "She'll be right out. Going in late?"

"It's my day off," he replies. "I was hoping Teresa might want to do something."

Yeah, he's going to drive her into my arms with nearly no effort on my part, I realize. "I called her in sick, so she might," I say.

A minute later, Lisbon comes in, hair brushed and smelling of mouthwash, wrapped in a fluffy red robe. I relieve her of her empty coffee cup and refill it as she smiles at Pike. "Hi, Marcus. Um, did I thank you for dinner last night? It was really nice."

Pike smiles back. "Liar. You hated it. Sorry. Jane here set me straight on where to take you, so I promise to do better if you give me another chance."

I meet Lisbon's suspicious look with a bland smile, handing her the refilled coffee cup. She turns back to Pike and says, "Of course. Sorry I was such bad company."

"Never," he says.

Okay, this is getting too awkward even for me. I decide to bow out gracefully and return when Lisbon is alone so I can reiterate everything I said last night, which appears to have either not sunk in or been dismissed as a drunken dream.

"Hey," I say to get her attention. "I texted you in sick. I'm going to run home and get a shower. I'll stop by and check on you later, okay?" I step close and place my hands on her cheeks, making her eyes widen in alarm. But I resist the devil on my shoulder and tip her head forward to place my kiss on top of it.

Then I leave her to remember what I said to her last night and deal with Agent Morning Person. I'll check on her at lunchtime to make sure she eats something, and if her headache is gone, then we'll talk.

He's a nice guy, Pike. He might even be good for her with a little training. And if she really wants him, I'll help him learn to take better care of her. But I'm going to make sure she makes an informed choice, that she knows I'm available. Because I would really like to spend the rest of my life taking care of her, and I'm already fully trained.

And, immodest as it sounds, I rarely fail.


	3. Lunch

**Author's Note:** So sorry for the delay! Real life has been difficult and exhausting, and not in an attractive and amusing Jane way. But hopefully the worst is behind me! So please cast your mind back to the day after Silver Wings of Time, before we knew what true heartbreak was, and enjoy!

**Chapter 3: Lunch**

I nap a bit, then shower, then think. Does Lisbon need some grand gesture? I'd love to fly her to South Beach for a delicious seafood meal at some eccentric little place on the ocean, but that's not something she would enjoy. At least, not at this stage. I do, however, need to find some way to demonstrate my seriousness. I don't know what she's told herself about last night, but from the way she welcomed Pike this morning, it's obvious she doesn't consider me a viable alternative.

I decide to stick to what I told her and text her to see if she'd like some lunch. Reliability is critical to demonstrate at this point.

She responds immediately to tell me no. So I call her, because texting is like working with my head in a bag.

"Jane, I'm fine, I'm just not up for company," she says, not even bothering with a greeting.

"Since when am I company? I'll bring you a meatball sub from Tony's. And I'll stop by the market and get some of those dill pickle chips you love." There's no way she'll turn that down. I know my way around Lisbon's stomach. When she hesitates, I add, "And I'll leave whenever you tell me to."

"Fine," she sighs. "I guess you owe me lunch to make up for breaking into my house last night."

Ah, so she does remember. Good. "I tend to think that's worth dinner at Siam Palace, but if you're willing to let me off easy, I'll take it. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Don't speed," she says. "Bye."

"Bye," I say, amused. Then I get moving. There's a lot to do, and this has to be perfect.

mmm

Precisely twenty-nine minutes later, I arrive on Lisbon's doorstep laden with food and a ridiculously expensive bouquet of cream-colored tulips. Lisbon won't know they mean "I will love you forever," but they'll go beautifully in her living room and won't be as obvious as roses. I may have to go slowly in transforming her image of me from colleague and erratic friend to lover and potential life mate, particularly as Pike no doubt comes closer to the kind of man she always thought of as husband material. I am sure in her wildest girlish fantasies she never pictured herself ending up with a con man with blood on his hands.

When Lisbon opens the door, the little line between her eyebrows tells me she's worried, annoyed, or in pain. Perhaps all three. I say a quiet hello and hand her the bag from Tony's, distracting her from the bakery box and flowers I carry into the house. While she's in the kitchen, I set the vase of tulips on her coffee table, then carry the box of pastries into the kitchen.

Lisbon pauses at the sight of the chocolate eclairs from the best bakery in town. "Wow. Pulling out all the stops, huh?"

"A little chocolate never hurts," I grin.

Lisbon pulls out the onion rings and my cheesesteak, sneaking one of the famous rings for herself. "Tea?" she asks, nodding toward the kettle.

"I got us some lemonade," I tell her, and she digs in the other bag to find the cups of homemade liquid sunshine I got at a stand near the bakery.

We settle at the table and eat. I'm pleased she isn't hinting at throwing me out yet, and after she's eaten her favorite foods and stolen some of mine, she'll be in a much better frame of mind to see the flowers and chat about our future.

As usual, I'm right. Lisbon is almost happy by the time she's finished her eclair, and when we move to the living room she only pauses a moment when she sees the tulips. Then she sighs and sits down on the couch. I sit a little closer than usual and smile to reassure her.

"Look," Lisbon says, taking control of the situation, "I was a little out of it last night, and I think maybe you were a little lonely. That's no reason to do anything rash. I'm not going to stop being your friend just because I'm dating, Jane. You don't need to panic."

"This is not me panicking," I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Lisbon, this isn't some sudden impulse. I've thought about us for a long time. After...after I was free, after I came back, I thought things would change. But then we just fell into old habits, and I was enjoying it so much I didn't want to take a chance on disrupting things. But now you've suddenly decided to start dating and I realized that you weren't thinking the same thing I was."

"Which is what?" She's skeptical. "That we'd grow old together as crime solving buddies? We can still do that, Jane. But just because you don't care about a sex life doesn't mean I shouldn't have one."

"And I think you should have one. But I want it to be with me," I tell her.

The way her mouth falls open and her eyes widen isn't encouraging. I think she'd look less shocked if I peeled back my skin to reveal an alien.

I appear to be somewhat out of practice at this.

After a moment, she says, "You mean as friends with benefits or something?"

"No, of course not. I mean as two people madly in love with each other." Does she really think I'd use her for my own selfish ends? But then I remember the times I've done precisely that, and I realize she's not being unreasonable.

Lisbon closes her mouth and blinks at me. Then she manages to say, "Are you trying to tell me you're in love with me?"

"Yes. How could I not be?"

"I...You...it's not—" She breaks off in frustration, shaking her head a little.

It's time for me to make a declaration, I realize. I shouldn't make her interrogate me about this. "Teresa," I say, taking her hand. Her fingers tremble a little before clutching at mine. "I know it hasn't always been easy for you to believe what I tell you. I know I have a lot to make up for. But I promise you, I will never toy with your heart. I love you. I am in love with you. There is no one more important to me than you, and all I'm asking for is a chance to prove that to you."

I'm getting through to her; she's valiantly trying to control her emotional response, but there are tears in her beautiful eyes, and her lips are trembling. She bites the lower one as she looks at me, desperately trying to read the truth in my face. I'm careful not to hide anything, though it's hard for me. My instinct has always been to hide my thoughts and feelings, and the only other person I have ever been absolutely myself with was my wife. Lisbon deserves this, though. This, and whatever else I can give her.

"How?" she finally asks.

"Hm?" I've lost the thread of our conversation, busy thinking about things I'd like to share with her.

"How would you prove it?" she asks, blushing a little but holding my gaze.

I smile. "By being here for you, whenever and however you need me. Whether it's feeding you properly, trying to help you relax when you're stressed, or engineering little surprises to make you smile, I want to make your life more enjoyable. And if you want to get dressed up once in a while, we can do that too. But I'll be sure we go somewhere you'll enjoy the food."

Lisbon smiles a little. "You think you know me pretty well, don't you?"

"What you like to eat, at least," I say modestly. I know it's important to her to preserve some mystique, so I won't disillusion her.

"So you want to date?" She's trying to process the idea.

"Yes."

"Like a normal couple?"

I can't help but laugh a little. "I don't think any couple I'm a part of would ever be all that normal, but yes, I'm prepared to court you in the traditional way if you like."

She looks intrigued. "And if I said I didn't care about the traditional way?"

I grin at her. "Then I'd begin making plans to whisk you off to a secret hiding place where we can devote ourselves to exploring a wide range of carnal delights. When we pause to eat and let our bodies recover, I'd ask you your thoughts on the question of engagement versus elopement. My future plans would depend on your answer."

"You want to marry me?" She sounds shocked.

"Well I'm certainly not going to marry anyone else," I say with a smile.

"No, I mean, I didn't think you wanted to get married at all," she replies.

"I'm open to whatever arrangement we decide is mutually beneficial," I say, keeping her commitment issues in mind. "But I know you're it for me. I hope to convince you that I'm it for you, too."

She tries to laugh but is too nervous to quite pull it off. "That's awful big talk for a man who's never even kissed me."

I recognize a dare when I hear it. And as much as I'd like our first kiss to be spontaneous, I know she needs some physical proof, something she can trust more than my words.

"Allow me to remedy that," I say, and then I fold up my gentlemanly manners and tuck them safely away. Because Lisbon doesn't want me to be a gentleman. She wants me to want her with all the selfish obsession she knows I'm capable of.

So I frame her face with my hands, stroking her cheeks with my thumbs and holding her still as I lean forward and take possession of her mouth. She melts against me, opening her arms to enfold me, and sighs with pleasure as I explore her mouth and capture her tongue. Then she begins to kiss me back, trying to take control. I don't let her, though. If I show any sign of passivity, she'll take it as a lack of desire.

And there's definitely no lack of that. My pulse is pounding in my ears, which is strange because I could swear most of my blood is concentrated in the impressive erection trying to find its way out of my pants. If I'm not careful I'll lose control for real. I'd forgotten how intense lust could be when it's focused on the woman I love.

I push Lisbon to her back, pinning her down with my weight. I worry for a second I might crush her, but she squirms powerfully beneath me, aligning our hips so she can rub herself against my aching hard-on. I'm reminded that she could overpower me—or hurt me badly—anytime she wants to, so I stop worrying.

This is all going much faster than I planned, but damned if I'm going to stop. In fact, I want to move faster. I can romance her later. Right now I'm going to claim her as my lover. My mate. Mine.

"Bed," I growl in her ear. She shivers, arching into my touch as I knead her breasts through way too much fabric.

"It's only one o'clock," she gasps.

"I don't care." Dammit, she's still in possession of her senses, while I'm fast losing mine. "We had a good lunch. When we come up for air we can order in for dinner."

Lisbon suddenly pushes at my chest, forcing me off her. I frown, trying to read what's going on in her head as she bites her lip. Finally she says, "I...I'm meeting Marcus for dinner."

Well, sheep dip, to coin a phrase. My mind kicks into overdrive as I try to figure out what she wants me to do about this. Do I keep up the caveman act and say "Oh no you're not," or should I back off, sit up, and ask politely if I can reserve tomorrow night?

I sigh, letting her see my uncertainty. "I don't suppose you'd consider canceling?"

"He made reservations."

It's not exactly an answer, but she pushes me off her so she can sit up and straighten her T-shirt, trying to act normal even with her chest heaving, cheeks flushed, and eyes dark with arousal. I am struck by the realization that there is no way in the world I can let her go meet Marcus like this. And there's no way in hell I'm letting her out of bed to go to him. So I need to stop and let her calm down.

I also need to think through why she didn't throw caution to the winds, lead me to her bed, and decide she could text Pike to cancel. But it doesn't take more than a second to get it: she doesn't trust me. She still thinks this might be a play of some kind, and she's not going to let go of him until she's sure it's not.

Okay, back to Plan A: showing her I'm here for her. "Well, hopefully you'll get a good meal this time. And a bit less alcohol. Will you text me to let me know you're home safe?"

She looks adorably confused. "Okay."

"Good. Because I'll be jealous as hell the whole time. And if you need another midnight snack, I'll be more than happy to oblige." I'm finally getting my body under control, though I'm in imminent danger of backsliding while she's sitting right beside me looking so alluring.

"Good to know." She is almost back under control too. Then she frowns. "Jane—"

"Patrick," I correct her, smiling. "I'd really like it if you'd call me Patrick, at least when we're alone."

"Patrick," she says experimentally. "All this...are you sure? You won't wake up and realize you were just being...impulsive?"

Oh, Lisbon. How could any man change his mind, given a chance to be with her? I hate myself for the things I've done to make her doubt. "I'm sure," I tell her, looking at her so she can see the truth. "But I know my timing isn't the best. And I know you have reasons to doubt me. So I won't push. I'll just be here when you need me. Anytime. For anything."

"Anything?" Oh, the little minx. I can see her thinking up tasks, like the labors of Hercules.

"Anything." If I need to clean out the Augean stables to convince her, then I will.

"Then how about we start with you not breaking into my house anymore?"

"I can safely promise not to. If you'll give me a key." I try my best boyish grin.

She chuckles a little. "If I did, it would be for emergencies only."

"And I would use it for emergencies."

"Uh huh." She looks suspicious but amused. It's one of my favorite looks on her. "Like an emergency tea shortage in my kitchen?"

I nod. "Or an emergency lack of roses in your house. Or an emergency grocery restocking."

"Emergency housecleaning?"

"Would that be well received?"

"Well, it's not like I enjoy vacuuming," she says, rolling her eyes.

Noted. While she's at dinner, I'm going to scrub and fluff this place like Martha Stewart on speed.

Lisbon gives me a little I-know-what-you're-thinking smile, then gets up and takes a key out of the end table drawer. "I was going to give my spare key to Cho," she lies. "But I guess you'd better have it. So my neighbors don't call the police when they see you picking the lock."

I take it, tugging at her hand to bring her close enough to kiss. "As if I'd be seen," I scoff. "But thank you. I will treasure this."

"Don't make me regret it," she warns.

I let her hand go so I can put my hands around her waist and pull her down into my lap. I swear I only intended to kiss her a little, but suddenly we go up in flames again and I'm thinking I can make her forget Marcus Pike ever existed. Because he may be a nice guy, but I'm the one she's wanted for years and thought she couldn't have.

And she can have me now. Any way she wants. I can whisk her off to a luxury hotel with rose petal strewn sheets later; if she wants me right here on this couch, so be it.

Oh. I hope she's got some condoms, though. I didn't think I needed to pick any up at the market, sure she'd take more coaxing than this.

I've got her bra undone and her shirt bunched up under her arms when her phone rings. Lisbon pulls away from my mouth to glance at it, despite my efforts to distract her. She's a cop; she's always going to answer her phone. I make a mental note to hide it before taking her to bed.

Damn it. It's Pike. She doesn't answer it, looking guilty, but she refastens her bra and pulls her shirt down.

I sigh. Dissipating my arousal is much harder this time. "You're not cheating," I tell her, my voice hoarse. "You've only been seeing him for what, a week? You can't possibly be exclusive yet."

"Actually, he, uh, he told me up front that I'm the only one he's seeing. His ex cheated on him, so he has a thing about it."

I scoot over on the couch so I can more easily ignore the musky, maddening scent she's giving off. Pike is moving really fast, and might not be as guileless as I thought if he deliberately appealed to Lisbon's fixer instinct. Still, I'm not going to complain about or undermine Lisbon's integrity. "What will you tell him tonight?"

She bites her lip, glancing to the side. "I don't know."

"But you will give me a chance?" I ask.

She looks at me with so much vulnerability that I want to hold her. "If you're sure about this."

"I am," I say firmly.

She nods, then looks down. "I need to think."

We both know she can't do that with me here. I steel myself and get up from the couch. "Sure. Call me if you want to talk."

She gets up too, smiling nervously at me. "Thanks for lunch. It hit the spot."

I smile at her. "I'll always take good care of you, Teresa. If you'll let me."

We look at each other, and I know we're both remembering all the times I didn't. A wave of self loathing washes over me. But Lisbon reaches up to lay a hand on my cheek. "I know you will," she says gently.

What have I ever done to deserve her? Nothing. But I can't live without her, so I'm grateful beyond words for her forgiving nature.

She walks me to the door. "I'll call you tonight," she promises.

"Have a good time," I tell her, and I mean it. Mostly. Because she might be attracted to Pike, but there's no way she feels for him what she does for me. Seeing him again will reinforce that.

She makes a face at me. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"

"I promise." I really want to kiss her again, but she's holding the door open and I don't think I can stop at a peck. So I give her a loving smile and watch her soften. She's been tightly furled for so long, waiting for a stray sunbeam to nourish her. Watching her bloom under the warmth of my love is miraculous and humbling.

I whistle a little as I head down the sidewalk.


	4. Booty Call

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews and encouragement, which kept me going during a tough week. This is AU now, obviously, since I need a happy place to seek refuge in. Hope it makes you happy too! It gets a bit M-ish toward the end. You've been warned!

**Chapter 4: Booty Call**

I use the remainder of the afternoon preparing for my first use of the emergency key to Lisbon's place. Since she promised to call me tonight, I can safely assume she's not planning to sleep with Pike, though I know she has at least once, since she took a cab to the crime scene during our last case. If I play my cards right, that will be the last time.

When the popular dinner hour arrives, I make my way back to Lisbon's place. She's messy but not one to live in squalor, so there's not that much cleaning to do after I pick up a few things. I am greatly amused by the note she's left stuck to her bathroom door: _Jane, snoop in here and I'll kick your ass_.

Ah, Lisbon. Promises, promises. Surely she must realize I am now absolutely obliged to go through her medicine cabinet? I use my handkerchief, though, in case she dusts for prints. Predictably, there's nothing here to shock me. The box of condoms assures me I don't need to pick any up, and after we become exclusive we can dispense with them altogether since she's on the pill. Excellent.

I'm well aware the note is a misdirect, meant to make me waste my time on the uninteresting collection of vitamins, painkillers, and lotions in the bathroom. What doesn't she want me to find in the bedroom? A black leather corset? A stash of Playgirl magazines? Whips and furry handcuffs? An assortment of sex toys? The possibilities are thrilling.

First things first, though. I make a few trips out to my car to bring in my supplies, then get started. The ice cream sundae ingredients go in the kitchen, and I place the arrangement of gardenias on her kitchen table. Not only are they my favorite, but they mean "you're lovely," an appropriate message.

The red roses go on her nightstand in the bedroom. I bought two dozen with the idea that I'd use some to scatter rose petals on her bed, but as I look at her bed, I realize Lisbon would roll her eyes at the mess rather than enjoy the romantic gesture. So I combine them into one bouquet, then stand back to assess my handiwork. It's an exuberant and extravagant display—fitting to symbolize my love for her.

I pull the notecards and a pen out of my jacket, then carefully write the meanings of each flower for her to find.

Lastly, I retrieve a sheet of bright white paper and carefully fold an origami swan. Lisbon doesn't know much about wildlife, so maybe she doesn't know swans mate for life, but she probably gets that they symbolize fidelity in love.

The swan sits gracefully on her pillow, lovely against the navy blue comforter. Between it and the roses, I'm sure to be the one she falls asleep thinking about, even if Pike learned his lesson and fed her well.

Pleased with my handiwork, I head home to await her reaction.

mmm

It's only two hours later that my phone rings. "Hi," Lisbon says softly. "Do you want to come over?"

The only possible answer to that, of course, is yes. But she sounds nervous. Is it because something happened with Pike, or because she wants to let me romance her but isn't sure how to ask? "I'll be right there," I tell her.

When she opens the door, I see immediately that she's changed out of her date clothes into comfortable stretchy pants and a tank top with no bra, and she's scrubbed her makeup off and put her hair in a pony tail. She looks about nineteen. This means she was getting ready for bed when she decided to invite me over. Lisbon yielding to impulse is rare enough that I'm intrigued.

"How was dinner?" I ask, giving her a chaste peck on the lips. I taste mouthwash. Interesting. Did she feel the need to remove all traces of Pike before seeing me?

"Good. We went to a steakhouse," she says. "I'm so full I feel like I'm waddling."

I follow her to the couch, noting the sway of her hips. "You're not," I assure her.

"So," she says as she sits, crossing one leg beneath her, "I see there was an emergency while I was out."

"Yes," I say. "I had an urgent need to bring you flowers and everything necessary for ice cream sundaes."

"Ice cream?" She perks up, then sighs. "I can't. I'm stuffed."

"It'll keep." I have a sudden vision of us eating ice cream in bed together. I may have just acquired a new goal in life.

Lisbon shifts restlessly, looking at the tulips and the swan, which has migrated to the coffee table. I wait for her to tell me why I'm here. Apparently this is not her deciding that I am her true love and we should begin our glorious and intense sex life as soon as possible. Not that I really thought it was, but a guy can hope.

"I, uh, I told Marcus that you wanted to date," she says after a moment.

"And?" I prompt gently when she doesn't continue.

"And he said that sometimes with opposite sex partnerships, people get so close that they develop an attraction to each other. Even if they aren't each other's type, or whatever." She smiles a little. "He told me you were charming and good-looking and he'd be worried if I wasn't a little attracted to you."

Yeah, me too, I think, wondering where this is going. Maybe Pike isn't as average as I thought.

"So he suggested that maybe all this boils down to curiosity. Since we haven't ever had sex, but we've both thought about it. Maybe it's just an itch I need to scratch so I can move on."

Oh, no, Lisbon. I am not a scratch. I'm a serious heart condition.

"So he told me he'd understand if I just needed to get you out of my system, as long as I was honest about it. Because honesty is essential to any serious relationship." She gives me an arch look, as if expecting me to argue.

"I would have said a thorough knowledge of each other, but potayto, potahto," I reply. This is the thing: no matter how much Lisbon complains that I lie to her, I've never lied about who I am or what my intentions are. She has always known those two critical things. Better than anyone alive. "So let me make sure I understand this. Pike told you to sleep with me?"

The man is either an idiot or a diabolical genius. They can be hard to tell apart sometimes, even for the man in question. I can attest to that.

Wait. He can't be some kind of ridiculously endowed super lover, can he? Does he think I'll suffer by comparison? Well, I'll show him. Or rather, I'll show Lisbon.

"No, of course not," she says. "He just told me he'd be okay with it if I felt I needed to."

"So he gave you permission." Where the hell does he get off telling Lisbon who she can sleep with?

"No. Well, yes. I guess." Her forehead wrinkles as she processes this from a new perspective.

I tamp down the urge to roll my eyes. It's ridiculous for me to be upset about this, given that it removes a potential obstacle to my plans. But seriously, who does Pike think he is? He's got no business telling her what to do.

I can't resist an impulse to sarcasm. "Well, if Pike thinks it's a good idea, then obviously we have no choice. I'll let you take me to bed and use me as your itch scratcher as many times as you like."

Lisbon looks at me, surprised and distressed. "No! I mean, I did think about that, but then I came home and saw the flowers and the notes and the swan and I realized...it's not just an itch for you. Is it?"

"No."

"And it's not just curiosity? Seeing if you can trick me into bed?"

"No!" Okay, now I'm upset. Trick her into bed! What kind of an ass does she think I am? Next she'll wonder why I don't just hypnotize her to take all her clothes off!

"Then you really think you love me?" She fixes pleading eyes on me, and I melt. Yeah, I'm a sap.

"I don't think I love you, Lisbon. Teresa. I know what love is. And I love you. Sex isn't what I'm after, though I'll certainly take it if you're offering."

She holds my gaze for a moment, then looks down. "I...I'm offering."

"And I accept. I'm all yours."

She looks at me again, her expression moving from surprise to trepidation to desire. "Okay." She gets to her feet, swallowing hard, and reaches for my hand. I give it to her and stand, letting her lead me to her bedroom.

I can feel how awkward she's finding this and decide to take pity on her, tugging her to a stop in the bedroom doorway with a smile. "Are you going to show me what you didn't want me to find in your bedroom?" I ask.

She blushes a little but valiantly tries to be her normal sassy self. "No, Jane. Because I only hide things I _don't_ want you to find."

I grin. "If it's a kinky sex toy, I just want to let you know I'm game."

"It's not," she says firmly, cheeks red. Alas, she's telling the truth.

"Too bad. Since this is all just a scientific experiment for you, we could have pushed each other's boundaries a little." Hm. She finds the idea exciting. I wonder if she'd let me blindfold her at some point?

Lisbon bites her lip, and I yield to the urge to spare that plump, delicious bit of flesh from her teeth, pressing my own lips against it and then sucking it gently into my mouth. She trembles a little as I push her against the doorframe, and I can't help but smile. Why yes, Lisbon, these lips will be happy to display their talent on several of your other lovely body parts very, very soon.

"It's not an experiment," she breathes when I let her speak again. "I don't want you to feel used."

"I don't," I tell her, because it's true. She'd never consciously use another person for her personal ends. "There's too much between us for this to ever be just physical. I'm never going to get you out of my system, though I'm happy to spend the next forty or fifty years trying."

I drop little kisses on her face, neck, and shoulders as I speak, noting how her breathing speeds up and becomes a little erratic. If she responds to me this way fully clothed, I can't wait until we're skin to skin.

Lisbon must be having similar thoughts, because she lifts her hands to my shirt, toying with the top button. The feel of her little fingers moving against my chest makes me fear I'll spontaneously combust. I give her an encouraging smile.

But she pauses, looking at me for a moment. "I wasn't, um, I didn't think you'd be so...cooperative. I could go freshen up. I have some lingerie—"

I stifle a laugh, because she's vulnerable right now and I don't want her to misunderstand. "I don't want you all dolled up. I want you just as you are. Your real, perfect self. I love your freckles and comfortable clothes. And I want you to be comfortable, Teresa. Comfortable with me and with whatever we choose to do together. You don't need to impress me. To me, you're already the most impressive person in the world, and I'm never going to change my mind about that, because it's based on a decade of watching you deal with some of the worst situations imaginable. I love that you know me better than anyone else, and I want you to love that I know you so well too. You never have to fake anything or hide anything, okay? If you want to lay around in your oldest sweats and eat bonbons while watching maudlin made for TV movies, go for it. It won't change how I see you."

She gives me a misty smile. "I know. And I do love that. I just thought...there's only going to be one first time."

I love that she had a romantic thought about making love with me, even though she's telling herself that she's only doing it because her boyfriend told her to get me out of her system. I kiss her, bringing as much of our bodies into contact as possible, and when I need to breathe again I whisper, "The lingerie will keep. Right now I want you naked."

She reaches for the hem of her tank top, but I catch her hands in mine. "Let me," I say. I press her hands against my heart, and when I move my hands to slide them under her top, she starts unbuttoning my shirt, trailing her fingertips over my skin.

"Keep in mind I'm a little out of practice," I warn her. At this rate I'm going to embarrass myself.

"No broken hearted señoritas pining for you in Venezuela?" She peeks up at me from under her lashes.

"Not a single one." How can she think I would have moved on there but reverted to my old habits here? If I'd been able to open myself to romance then, I'd have grabbed her the moment I saw her again and ravished her right there in that FBI conference room, Abbott be damned. "I was too busy pining for you."

She smiles, a real one with teeth, and pushes my jacket and shirt off my shoulders. I reluctantly stop my exploration to shrug them all the way off, then slide my hands back under her top, abandoning the soft, taut skin of her abdomen and going straight to her breasts. The sight of my hands moving under the cloth is surprisingly erotic, but nothing compared to the way she tosses her head back and moans.

"Bed," she says, sliding away from me. I follow her immediately, grateful when she shimmies out of her pants and reaches for mine.

I need to speed things up, so a few moments later we're both naked on the bed and I'm trying to keep my head in the game and figure out if she needs anything else. She smiles up at me, reaches in her nightstand drawer, and pulls out a condom, which answers my question. I take it from her because I'm on the edge and her touch would push me over it.

"You don't have to impress me," she reminds me, and I could weep with love and relief. She makes a sound like a sob as I slide in, and I groan out her first name. We move together like we've been doing it for years, and I realize that we have—in our imaginations. It feels more like a reunion than a first time.

I'm glad I don't have to impress her because my staying power is nonexistent, and I barely manage to get her off by asking her to open her eyes. Seeing her fantasy was real was all she needed.

I roll off her and try not to sound like an asthmatic bull as I catch my breath. After a second I look over at her as she rolls to her side. "There's a trash can right here," she says, ever practical.

I'm not sure I could make it to the bathroom, so I'm grateful to dispose of the condom without having to walk. We cuddle up together, sharing a pillow almost nose to nose, and Lisbon strokes my cheek, petting my beard almost tentatively.

"Well?" I ask.

"Hm?" She was somewhere far away, I think.

"Itch scratched? Out of your system?" I know the answer, but I want to hear it.

Lisbon sighs. "I think I just needed to know that you really wanted me."

I hum, thinking. "Because you think I can't lie during sex?"

"If anybody could, it'd be you," she says.

I kiss her forehead. Of course I can lie during sex; I did it with Lorelei. And she knows that. "I would never make love with someone I could lie to." And that's the difference.

Lisbon looks at me for a long time, gauging my truthfulness. I drop a kiss on her shoulder, resting my hand in the dip of her waist and then sliding it to her back to pull her closer.

I marvel at how my hand spans almost the entire width of her back at her narrow waist. She's such a huge presence in my life that I sometimes forget how tiny she really is. No wonder she felt so tight. I must have felt huge to her, since I'm as well endowed as my hands and feet suggest.

I feel a surge of manly pride and arousal at the thought of squeezing into her again. Lisbon feels me move against her thigh and grins at me, unable to conceal her delight. "Really?"

"What can I say? You inspire me," I smile. "Besides, I'm trying to help you out here. Once won't scratch that old itch. It'll probably take several times. Or several nights." Or years, I hope.

"Well," she says, "I guess we'd better get back to it, then." She hitches a leg over my hip and kisses me.

This night is turning out so much better than I anticipated.

And it's official: Pike is an idiot.


	5. Home Cooking

**Author's Note: **Almost there! Just one more chapter to go, I think. Thanks for reading, reviewing, etc. I love you guys! Chins up! This will be a tough week, but I have confidence we will find a new home if necessary.

**Chapter 5: Home Cooking**

Morning comes all too soon. I reluctantly pull myself away from Lisbon and stretch, feeling my age after a night of unaccustomed exertion. Staggering a little, I head for the kitchen to put the kettle on, then out to the living room to silence the alarm that begins to sound. Lisbon is still deeply asleep, since she didn't hear it. Good. I have plans to wake her much more pleasantly.

We're due at work in a little over an hour, so I make quick work of scrambled eggs and our respective caffeine fixes, then hurry to the bedroom to wake my love with sweet kisses. I'll never get enough of the feel of her, the taste of her. I'll never get enough of her, period.

She sighs in her sleep, then smiles into my kiss as she wakes. "Morning," she says when I pull back. She stretches, the sheet slipping away from her delectable body.

"Good morning, beautiful," I smile. "Breakfast's on the table."

She sits up and looks at the clock. "Crap. I'm going to be late."

"Eat first, then panic," I advise.

She throws on her clothes from last night and lets me seat her at the table, then eats her food so fast I worry I may need to perform a Heimlich. I eat a bit more slowly and catch her hand as she gets up. "Hey."

"Yeah?" She swallows her impatience.

"I just want to make sure you know that I, uh, I really want last night to be a routine thing, not a one-off." I have a hard time reading her when my own emotions are involved, so I need her to reassure me that she's not going to decide last night was all she needed.

"Jane," she sighs. Then she leans forward and presses a kiss into my hair. "I know. And I...I want that too."

"So what are you going to tell Pike?"

"I don't know." She grimaces. "But I'll have to let him know I'm with you now. I just hate to hurt him."

"You followed his advice. He was being smart," I tell her. "Better for us all that we realize we belong together now, instead of waiting until the two of you got serious."

"I guess." She squeezes my hand. "See you at the office."

I clean up the dishes and head out. I need a shower, because though I love smelling like sex and Lisbon, she will kill me if I show up at the office like this.

mmm

I arrive just in time for the briefing on our new case. Abbott sends me out with Fischer before Lisbon has even arrived, but maybe that's for the best. This way we can both settle into work without any awkward moments where we try to not grin at each other and give away the turn in our relationship.

I text her as Fischer drives. _Off to pound the pavement. Hope to see you soon. Have a good day meanwhile._

_Be safe_, she responds.

The case is a pretty straight up murder. I have an inkling of whodunit early on, but we don't get through the interviews fast enough to wrap things up. I'm disappointed when I text Lisbon to tell her I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere tonight.

_Dinner with Marcus,_ she replies. _I'm going to tell him. See you tomorrow I hope._

_I love you_, I remind her.

_Love you too_. I smile at the words on the screen, hoping they'll be enough to let me sleep tonight. I'm tired and a little sore, so maybe a night apart is a good thing.

I'm full of shit. I'd far rather be with Lisbon tonight, even if all we did was curl up together and sleep. In fact, I'm really looking forward to that someday.

I catch a few hours of sleep, then devote the rest of the night to thinking through my cunning plan to trap the killer so I can go home to Lisbon.

mmm

Fischer and I are back in Austin in time for dinner the next day. I stop to pick up a bouquet of violets to symbolize my faithful love, then head straight for Lisbon's place. When she opens the door, I smell something lovely. And it's not just her.

"Welcome back," she smiles at me. "Dinner's almost ready. Thanks, they're beautiful."

I hand her the flowers and kiss her. "You cooked?"

She grins as she closes the door behind me. "I can, you know. I just don't take the trouble when it's just me."

I'm delighted. It's been a very long time since anyone cooked for me. "It smells delicious."

"So I hear you were your usual inventive self, closing this case," she remarks, putting the violets into a pint mason jar she pulls out of her cupboard.

"Meh. I didn't get punched or arrested. Let's not talk about work," I say, examining the shadows under her eyes and the little frown lines around her luscious lips. "How did it go with Pike?"

She turns to open the oven and peek in. I identify the source of the lovely smell as shepherd's pie, and my mouth waters. Lisbon gestures to the wine bottle on the counter. "Would you do the honors?"

It's a nice Pinot noir, I note as I pick up the corkscrew and open the bottle, pouring two generous glasses. It hasn't escaped my notice that she didn't answer my question, but maybe a full stomach and some good wine will make it easier for her.

"So I heard you and Cho had some excitement tracking down the girlfriend," I say as she pulls the dish out of the oven. I can see some of the tension leave her shoulders as I set the wine glasses on the table.

"Nothing serious," she says, setting the dish down on the trivet in the center of the table.

"I beg to differ. I consider it serious anytime someone shoots at you," I tell her.

She smiles, shrugging. "As long as they miss, I'm fine."

I wait until we're both sitting and have dished up hearty servings before I reach for her hand. "Teresa."

"Yes, Patrick?" She goes completely still, giving me her full attention.

I clear my throat, hoping my voice won't break. "I can't lose you. Understand? To Pike, to death, to anything. It would destroy me."

She frowns, and I know she's thinking about her father. Maybe it's a good thing we're a bit past the age of potential parenthood. "I'm as careful as I can be," she says softly. "But I'm a cop. I have to do my job. And...any random accident could happen to either one of us anytime. You can't saddle me with responsibility for your sanity, Jane. It's not fair."

"No, it's not," I agree. "I'm not saying it's your responsibility. I just...I want you to be aware that I'm not...you're buying a used model here, Teresa. I've got a lot of miles on me, and I haven't always kept up with the maintenance. And I've got structural damage from a very, very bad accident a long time ago. Even a fender bender might be enough to crack my engine block."

She looks at me with love, sadness, and a tinge of exasperation. "Are you talking about you or that old rust bucket you used to drive?"

"Hey, don't mock my car. It was a classic. And I miss it." I pout at her. She squeezes my hand and releases it, then starts to eat.

I do too. "This is amazing," I say, moaning a little with sheer nostalgic enjoyment. The taste is bringing back a sense memory of my mother setting a meal on the table in front of me and kissing my head. It's a feeling of absolute love I haven't felt in years. I blink so Lisbon won't see the tears that well up at the almost-forgotten sensation.

"It's my mother's recipe," she says, and I realize why she isn't looking at me. She's caught in a memory herself.

I lean over to kiss her, and she responds immediately. She tastes like home and comfort and all the things I've denied myself since I lost my family. I can't believe I was stupid enough to almost pass this up.

I'm going to buy Cho a car. Or an all-expenses-paid vacation anywhere he wants to go. Tahiti, maybe.

When we finish the kiss, Lisbon smiles at me. "I should cook for you more often."

"We can take turns. I'll do breakfast, since you're not a morning person."

"Deal," she says. "I missed you this morning."

"I missed you last night." The blush on her cheeks is enchanting. There's no hint of guilt, so her reluctance to talk about what happened with Pike isn't because she gave him one for the road, so to speak.

"I missed you too. Really missed you," she says.

"I'll make it up to you tonight." My best saucy grin makes her eyes light up.

"I was hoping you'd say that. Eat up. You'll need the energy." Her eyes have a naughty twinkle in them that makes me want her right now, dinner be damned. But I want to find out what happened with Pike first, so I take another bite and calm myself down.

We finish our meal, clean up, and adjourn to the couch to sip our second glasses of wine. I want to steal a few smooches, but if I do that, we'll skip the talking. And I want to know what upset her.

"Who taught you to cook?" I ask.

"Well, Mom started to. Simple meals, mostly reheating stuff for me and my brothers if she and Dad were late getting home. My Aunt Margaret taught me to bake later. The rest of it I learned on my own. Mom's cookbooks were some of the only things of hers dad didn't throw out, I guess because he didn't spend much time in the kitchen. Sometimes when I really missed her, I'd pull out a recipe and try it. It was like she was still teaching me. It made me feel closer to her."

I nod. "That's lovely. I wish I had something to remember my mom by."

Lisbon looks uncertain. I've never mentioned my mother to her, and the records are sketchy. I'm not even sure she and my father were married. "How young were you?"

"Four or five, I think."

"Was it an accident?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I'm not sure she's really dead; there wasn't a funeral that I know of. She might just have run off. My dad would never give me a straight answer."

Lisbon looks horrified. "And left you?"

"Maybe. I don't know. At that age, you don't really understand adults. As I got older I realized it didn't matter. Gone is gone, and she wasn't coming back either way." I wonder if Lisbon realizes we have this in common: losing our mothers and left with selfish fathers who only valued us as long as we enabled their vices. No wonder we both have the compulsion to suppress our feelings, never showing them unless we can't help it.

Lisbon leans forward and kisses me sweetly. "That's part of why you say you can't lose me, isn't it. It's not just because of your family."

"Yes."

She nods. "I'm sorry you've lost so much. It wasn't your fault, you know. But letting me go be with Marcus, that would have been your fault. I wish you could realize you deserve to be happy. And I want to try to make you happy."

"You do make me happy, Teresa. Beyond my wildest dreams."

"I'm glad." She takes a deep breath. "Even though I know it's not the same."

"Hm?" She's lost me there.

"As when you had that new car smell." She grins at me, but her eyes are melancholy.

Ah. Before the wreck. She thinks she doesn't make me as happy as Angela did. Where did she get that idea? "I think," I say slowly, "that you can't truly appreciate happiness until you've experienced its loss. So it may not have that new car smell, but I'm far more grateful for it."

She smiles, but there's still sadness in her lovely face. "I guess I lost my new car smell a while back, too."

"You're still the sexiest ride on the block," I tell her, cupping her cheek in my hand. She leans into my touch and closes her eyes, and I stroke her cheek with my thumb. Beautiful, kindhearted Lisbon. I want to know what's making her sad. "Pike must have been reluctant to let you go."

She sighs. "He was more resigned than anything, I think. He suspected you meant more to me than I was willing to admit. He said kind of the same thing you did, that it was better to find out sooner rather than later."

"That wasn't all he said." I'm sure of that.

"He, uh, he got a promotion to DC. He was going to turn it down to stay with me, but now he's going to take it. I'm glad I'm not holding him back."

"Good for him." I admit I'm relieved that he won't be hanging around making Lisbon feel guilty.

"Yeah. I'm happy for him. He's a great guy. I told him that." She pauses, then adds, "I told him he deserves better than to be somebody's second choice."

"Everybody does," I say, watching her closely. We're getting close to the reason for her sadness.

"Yeah, that's what he said."

Ah ha. Pike told her she deserved better than to be my second choice, and that got her thinking about my devotion to my wife. She thinks she'll never have first place in my heart, and it makes her sad, but she's willing to accept it because she loves me.

"Hey." I remove my hand from her face so she'll open her eyes and look at me. "You are not my second choice."

She smiles a little wistfully. "You don't have to pretend, Patrick. Of course I am. If your family were still alive, you'd never have looked at me as anything but a mark."

"That's probably true; I was an idiot. But to be fair, you'd never have felt anything for the man I was but disgust. I've changed a lot. I like to think they'd be proud of me, but I'm not so sure they'd recognize me." That hurts, but it's true.

"Of course they would." She strokes my face with her fingertips. "You were always a good man, Jane. That was who they loved, not the con man."

I turn so I can kiss her fingers. "I wasn't always the man you know, though. And for this man, you are the first choice. The best possible choice. I just don't feel I'm the best possible choice for you, or I would have swept you off your feet the minute I saw you again. I was trying to ensure your happiness by stepping back."

"Because you're an idiot." She kisses me to take the sting out of her words. "And a control freak. I'm glad Cho kicked some sense into you."

"Mm. Me too." I kiss her back, scooting closer so I can pull her into my arms. She comes eagerly, wrapping hers around my neck as she deepens the kiss. In a moment she's crawling into my lap, straddling me.

"Bed," I murmur.

"Later," she says, nipping my earlobe. "I want you right here, right now."

So much for my plan of a slow, romantic seduction. But I'm not complaining. If my Lisbon wants a fast hard screw on the couch, then she shall have it. In spades.

Maybe after I've exhausted her, we can cuddle under the sheets and whisper nonsense to each other. And in the morning I'll make French toast with strawberries and whipped cream. Which we can eat in bed and use the leftover whipped cream for erotic purposes.

Oh, yeah.


	6. A Night on the Town

**Author's Note: **And here we are at the end. Thank you so much for reading, following, favoriting, and/or reviewing! This story was a real surprise since I thought the first chapter was practically crackfic, but it just goes to show that sometimes the writer is wrong! So a special thanks to everybody who encouraged me to continue. It's been a blast. I hope you find this a fitting wrap up. And hang in there, everybody, especially my fellow Mentalistas on Twitter!

**Chapter 6: A Night on the Town**

Six weeks later, I'm lying on the couch at Lisbon's place, passing a very pleasant evening. I've made something of a hobby of lying on couches over the past decade or so, but this is a new addition to my repertoire. I must say, it's my favorite. No blanket or throw can compare to having Lisbon draped over me, her ear over my heart and one little hand tucked under my ribcage. Her other hand has a firm grasp on the remote as she switches back and forth between two sports channels, both of which appear to be disappointing her, judging by the grunts and groans she's making.

I'm pretending to read while taking the opportunity to bask in my new life. My free hand sifts through Lisbon's silky hair, releasing a lovely herbal scent and reminding me of how I grabbed fistfuls of it the other night when she was mercilessly sucking me dry. I always suspected under that prim exterior was an adventuress. If I could convince her to throw caution to the winds and run away with me, what a life we could have.

But right now we are lazy domesticated creatures, comforted by each other's touch after a tough case. Lisbon likes a cuddle now and then, but she's been clingy since that trafficking case started with our finding a dying girl while out for a casual food truck dinner. I appreciate her impulse to comfort me, but I think part of it is also her need to remind us both that there's still something good and pure in the world even when it seems like we're drowning in evil.

I close my eyes and try to dismiss the awful images that claw their way to my conscious mind. They'll have their chance to come out and play once I'm asleep, safely tucked in Lisbon's strong arms. She'll wake me with a kiss and words of comfort and reassurance, and it will be all right because she makes it so.

When I open my eyes again, I see Lisbon looking at me in concern, her little chin digging into my breastbone. Smiling, I say, "What is it, love?"

She smiles at the endearment, her favorite of all the things I call her, though she has a definite weakness for how I say her given name. For me, calling her my love is not just a way to remind her I love her, but to remind us both that she is the embodiment of that emotion for me. I had forgotten how to feel it until she showed me.

"We always do what I want to do," she says, frowning a little.

"It's only fair. We always do what I want to do at work," I point out.

She rolls her eyes at me. "I still think you've hypnotized Abbott," she says.

"Yes. I dangled his sparkly future in front of him and dazzled him. He's mesmerized by the prospect of unlimited success." To be fair, I think for him it's as much about justice as it is ambition, but either way, he plans to get as much out of me as he can for as long as he can. Which is why he's tickled pink that Lisbon and I are making each other deliriously happy. Happiness increases health, after all. Plus I have acquired a five foot two sense of self-preservation who doesn't hesitate to kick my ass for ignoring her warnings. This is far more persuasive now that she has access to my naked ass on a nightly basis.

"What I'm trying to say," Lisbon continues, "is that we should do something you like to do."

I say, "I like being here with you. I have no complaints."

"Okay, then let me put it this way. I owe you a night out doing the activity of your choice, since you've been so good about doing things I like to do."

"You owe me nothing, Teresa." I frown at her. "Ever. I'm still trying to work off my many debts to you."

She sighs. "Then how about this: I want to give you a night out you'll really enjoy. We can go to the opera or something. Get all dressed up. Go to a snooty restaurant."

I'm touched, but I know taking Lisbon to the opera would end with her sleeping through most of it with her head on my shoulder. Not necessarily a bad thing from my point of view, but I think we can do better. She might appreciate the athleticism of ballet, though. Or at least get turned on by muscular men in tights. "Are you giving me free rein to direct our weekend?" I ask.

"Yes."

"As fancy as I like?"

She can't help looking adorably anxious. "Yes," she says bravely.

I grin. "Thank you, my love. I'll make some arrangements and let you know."

"I have a red dress I've never worn," she says, and I realize from her uncomfortable tone that she bought it while dating Pike, who seemed bent on hitting every trendy place in town.

"I can't wait to see it," I tell her truthfully.

mmm

A little sleuthing and a few calls bring my plan into focus. On Saturday we drive to Dallas, Lisbon behind the wheel so she has something to think about besides guessing what I have planned. We arrive at the 5-star hotel in late afternoon, and Lisbon's delight in the homey but elegant decor tells me I was right to go with this former private residence rather than one of the larger, brand name resort hotels.

Her red dress is a knockout, and I immediately know this evening is going to go very slowly as I anticipate getting back here so I can peel it off her. She smiles at the look I give her, then straightens my tie. "I don't think I've ever seen you in one of these," she says.

"Don't get used to it," I grin.

"I won't. It doesn't seem right on you," she muses. Then she grins. "I do miss the vests, though."

"Maybe I'll pick one up for special occasions," I tell her. I have one in mind, in fact, but it's too soon to bring that up.

We head down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. It's contemporary American cuisine, so it will push Lisbon's comfort zone a little while still enabling her to find something she likes. We're seated at a table near the beautiful marble fireplace, and I don't miss the relief on Lisbon's face as she looks at the menu. I'm not surprised when she picks the aged prime ribeye, and I order the rabbit because I've never had it before. I know I can convince her to try a bite.

The meal and the wine are truly excellent. It's been too long since I made an effort to seek out the finer things in life, and I love that Lisbon is willing to help me do so, at least occasionally.

We hold hands during the taxi ride to the theatre, relaxed and happy. Lisbon devours the program as soon as we sit down, trying to remedy her ignorance a bit. I was happy to find that Giselle was being performed; it's one of my favorites. It's the story of a man redeemed by the love of a good woman he has betrayed, causing her to die of a broken heart. Her spirit saves him after he is sentenced to die.

I wish for this occasion it had a happier ending, but you just don't find a lot of those in ballets and operas. Pain, after all, has a breathtaking, sharp-edged beauty that sunny joy lacks. I brought a spare handkerchief just in case. Lisbon isn't a crier, but she's pleasantly tipsy from expensive wine, and we'll have more at intermission.

Ballet was a good choice, I decide as Lisbon can't help but follow the action onstage. I slide my arm around her as Albrecht's identity is revealed at the end of Act One, causing poor Giselle's weak heart to give out. I'm so grateful my Lisbon is made of stronger stuff.

As we sip our champagne during intermission, she says, "This isn't going to end well, is it?"

"Perceptive of you," I tease. "What was your first clue, Agent?"

"The dead girl," she says dryly. "She should have kicked his shady ass to the curb and stuck with the guy who tried to tell her the truth."

"Hilarion? Meh. He was boring, and she didn't love him," I point out.

"Yeah, so he couldn't have broken her heart." She finishes her champagne, and I have the uneasy feeling that she's drawing a different parallel to the story than I am.

"If you believed that, you'd be with Pike right now," I remark, completely failing to pull off nonchalance.

Lisbon frowns at me. "What are you talking about?"

"You made the same choice as Giselle, didn't you? Picking the charming deceiver who'd betrayed you over the good, steady guy who'd never have caused you a moment's unhappiness?"

She blinks, wide-eyed. It takes her a moment to respond. "I would have been unhappy no matter what Marcus did, because I'd always have wondered how it could have been with you."

I nod. "Me too. Love isn't something you leave behind."

"I know." She bites her lip, then says, "I really do, Patrick. I know you're always going to love your wife and your daughter. And I'm okay with it. I mean, I'd never want you to stop, or to think that I think I'm taking their place."

The lights blink to signal that intermission is ending. My mind races as I try to come up with a response. "Your place in my heart is all yours, Teresa. There's room for all three of you." I try to smile. "When you put it back together again, the pieces didn't fit together like they used to. So it's bigger now."

Lisbon's eyes become a little wet, and she leans forward to kiss me. I am so tempted to skip to the finale I have planned for the evening, but she takes my hand and pulls me back to the theatre.

We're both a little teary through the second act, and when I hand Lisbon my handkerchief she doesn't even try to pretend she doesn't need it. The final scene, with Albrecht pleading with Giselle not to return to her grave, gets to both of us, and I have to close my eyes for a moment as Albrecht is left alone and broken.

I'd forgotten about that. It hits me hard now that I know what that feels like.

Lisbon reaches for my hand to squeeze it, then leans over and puts her arms around me to console me. I love her so much in this moment that I think my heart might burst. The applause that erupts around us feels fitting, as if to celebrate our happy ending that so nearly wasn't.

We're in the middle of a row, so there's no hurry to leave after the bows are taken and the curtain comes down for the last time. We kiss each other leisurely, sharing comfort and togetherness, exchanging wordless promises. Then we make our way out to the curb, arms around each other's waists, and get in line for a cab.

Lisbon is not a fan of public displays of affection, so I'm surprised but pleased when she cuddles up to me in the back seat and starts placing little butterfly kisses on my cheek. The effect is somewhat muted by my beard, and I think seriously about shaving.

When we arrive back at the mansion, I help her out of the cab and suggest a moonlight stroll. Lisbon is still dreamy eyed, but she frowns at me. "In these shoes? My feet are killing me."

Ah. The flaw in my plan appears. "Just over to the terrace, then. We can grab some dessert."

The thought of chocolate puts a gleam in her eye. "Okay."

I take off my tie and slide it into my jacket pocket as we settle at the table, unbuttoning the first two buttons of my shirt and enjoying the way Lisbon's pupils dilate. I'm getting nervous despite my confidence, so this is reassuring.

We share an ice cream sundae, and I feed her the last bite, watching her lips close around the spoon and suck on it lightly as I pull it back out of her mouth. Oh, someone has naughty plans for tonight. I just hope my own plans don't derail hers.

Now is the time. It's late and the place is almost empty, because it's only a few minutes to closing time. The night is clear and warm, and despite the city lights there are a few brave stars twinkling down on us.

I take a deep breath and slide my chair back, heart pounding. Lisbon's eyes get huge as I kneel in front of her and pull the small box out of my pocket. She's obviously shocked, and I can't tell what that means for the outcome of the question I'm about to ask.

Lisbon keeps her eyes on mine, trying desperately to read me, as I open the box. She barely glances at the ring, just a second's look to confirm that's what it is.

"Teresa," I say, my voice hoarse with nerves, "I love you. I cherish you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

One perfect diamond drop tear makes its way down her cheek. Was she expecting something showy? Did she want a big speech? Will she let me try again if she says no? I realize I've stopped breathing and force myself not to gulp in air as I take a breath.

"Yes," she says at last, her voice squeaky and quavering. Then she takes a deep breath and smiles brilliantly, her voice strong and firm as she repeats, "Yes."

I get up as she does, and we throw our arms around each other, our kisses broken with relieved laughter on my part and one little sob of joy on hers. Then I slide the ring onto her finger to applause from the staff, who are gathered around the host station to watch.

I taker her newly adorned hand in mine and lead her inside, smiling at the hostess and saying, "Charge it to the room, please."

"Certainly, Mr. Jane. And congratulations!" She smiles at us as we pass.

We hurry to our room, where I see my instructions have been followed to the letter. The room is filled with red roses, a vase on practically every flat surface and the crisp white sheets adorned with petals. Lisbon stops on the threshold, staring at the room's transformation.

Then she grins. "Awfully confident, weren't you?"

"Hopeful," I correct her, closing the door behind us. "Really, desperately hopeful."

Her eyes sparkle. Is it too cliche to compare them to emeralds? I don't care. They're far more precious, anyway.

"Unless I miss my guess," she purrs, "there's one more thing you're hoping for tonight."

I grin at her, my beautiful fiancée. "Not just one. Well, maybe just one thing, but multiple instances of it."

"Good. Unzip me?"

"With pleasure." I trail kisses down her spine as I uncover it, unhooking her bra as I go. She shrugs both bra and dress off, then steps out of it.

"Do you want me to leave my shoes on?" She turns to face me, nude except for her lacy red panties and ridiculous heels.

"No." I kneel and place an open mouth kiss over the scrap of lace, making her moan and knot her fingers in my hair. I think "ow" and "oh yeah" simultaneously.

"Thank God," she moans, and I unfasten her shoes, freeing her caged feet one at a time while she holds onto my shoulders for balance. Then I strip her panties off and kiss the mink-like thatch now bared to me.

"No," Lisbon manages to gasp out. "This is your night."

"It's our night," I argue. "And I like doing this."

"Then bed, because I can't stay upright while you do that," she replies.

I nuzzle her with my nose and get to my feet, only to be forcibly stripped of my jacket. I hurry to help her with my remaining clothing, because when she's this impatient, she can tear things. And I don't have that many clothes. Though maybe this is her way of making me buy more.

We devour each other, falling to the bed and working each other into a frenzy. The sheer intensity of our coupling is overwhelming, and I really hope these walls are soundproof as I bellow out her name while pouring everything I've got into her.

Panting, sweaty, and deliriously happy, I pull her into my arms afterwards. She runs her hands through my hair and rubs against me, prolonging her afterglow with a sexy, satisfied smile. "You called me Lisbon," she remarks, teasing me a little because I'm the one trying to move us to a first-name basis.

"You screamed 'Jane'," I point out, unable to keep from smirking.

"I'll try to do better, Patrick. Maybe I just need more practice."

"You'll get it," I promise, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Mm. Good." She smiles at me, radiantly happy. "Was this fancy enough for you? Or should I expect an escalation?"

"I'm good," I assure her.

"Good." She scrunches her nose a little. "Because I think I have a rose petal jammed up my ass."

I burst into laughter, real, involuntary, snorting laughter. I'm not sure she was joking, but I can't help it.

Lisbon traces my face with her fingers as if trying to memorize my laughter, smiling lovingly at me. "I love you," she says when I quiet down.

"I love you too. More than I can ever express." I kiss her softly.

"Good." She pulls out of my arms, rolling to her stomach. "Pull it out of there, and then you can call housekeeping to change the sheets. I'm not sleeping with all this crap in the bed."

I chuckle again, kissing her shoulder blade before following orders.

**Epilogue**

Since we had a fancy engagement, we had a simple wedding. And by that I mean a simple ceremony, because the process we had to go through to get married in Teresa's church was anything but. It was worth it, though. There were only a few of our close friends and her family in attendance, so there were lots of empty pews, and we didn't bother with decorations, but our happiness made it perfect.

Teresa wore a wedding gown, the least fussy one she could find, and I wore a vest with my tux, since it was definitely a special occasion. Cho was my best man, and Fischer was Teresa's maid of honor, and afterward we all changed into casual clothes and went to an Irish pub in lieu of a reception.

We spend our date nights the way Teresa prefers, casual and simple. But for my birthday, she takes me someplace with cloth napkins. And I get to plan our anniversaries. For the past nine years, we've returned to the mansion in Dallas for our celebratory weekend and sampled one of the city's cultural offerings. She's gotten comfortable with that level of fancy, though I was right about her falling asleep at the opera.

But for our tenth anniversary, I have something really special up my sleeve: two tickets to Monte Carlo. I've packed her an overnight bag with her tourist clothes, but we'll buy her evening gown and shoes there so she'll be in the latest fashion. I've got my brand new tux she doesn't know about packed and ready, and I've made arrangements to rent a convertible so we can go touring around Monaco and maybe hop over to Nice.

And I have a room booked at the Hotel de Paris, right by the casino. We'll have every luxury imaginable.

Except rose petals on the bed.


End file.
